


Kar’dinuir

by Anonymous



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Ice and Luck (LadyIrina) AU, M/M, One Shot, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-04
Updated: 2020-06-04
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:42:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24526315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Kar'dinuir: to give heartfrom kar'ta = heart and dinuir = give, to(definitions from mandoa.org)CT-113 never thought it would turn out like this. He thought he was dying, burning from the inside out. Might as well do one good thing before he ends up decommissioned.
Relationships: Baby Yoda & Corin the Stormtrooper (Rescue and Regret) & The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV), Baby Yoda & The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV), Corin the Stormtrooper (Rescue and Regret)/The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)
Comments: 27
Kudos: 233
Collections: Anonymous





	Kar’dinuir

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LadyIrina](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyIrina/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Ice and luck](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21594913) by [LadyIrina](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyIrina/pseuds/LadyIrina). 



> Thank you to Arboreal for beta-ing!

_He can hear the weapon charging to be fired. Survival instinct kicks in. Hard. “Wait! I can help you!” CT-113 blurts out._

_The Mandalorian tilts his head slightly. It doesn’t matter that the silver helmet hides his facial expression, everything about that movement tells of dry incredulity._

_“Your ship. It's damaged. You won't be able to take off.” CT-113 slowly lifts his hands to show how he is completely unarmed and harmless. His rifle is buried somewhere under the snow. Though, he's fairly certain the Mandalorian has no idea his Snow Trooper suit has a tracker and that their employer has probably already sent reinforcements their way. “Our ship. You can take the parts you need to fix yours. I'll help you.”_

_“Why do I need your help for that?”_

Swallowing hard, CT-113’s breath hitches as fire spreads across his chest. Oh that isn’t good. He really hopes that the broken rib didn’t puncture a lung. “The storm. You aren’t exactly well dressed to ward off the cold for long. Not if you have to find our ship and then get to yours.”

The Mandalorian keeps his rifle aimed at CT-113, considering.

The snowtrooper waits, but feels the press of bad luck weighing on his lungs like the explosion that had buried the other troopers. If it was a punctured lung, then CT-113 only had 30 minutes to an hour before he suffocated. He should just let the Mandalorian shoot him- it would save the outpost time and resources to interrogate and then decommission CT-113. 

A finger slides across the trigger. 

_Coo_.

Behind his helmet, CT-113 gapes at a small child. Peeking out of the Mandalorian’s cape, the tiny being has green skin and oversized ears and eyes. It’s unlawfully adorable. Wait. Is _that_ the asset? “ _A kid_?” The snowtrooper blurts in distress, “The asset isn’t a gun you stole or something expensive?”

“No.”

The child chirps as if realizing the two adults are talking about it. It reaches a tiny hand toward CT-113 but withdraws with a whine as a cold wind bites the air. The snow trooper internally groaned. Caring about the kid was going to bring bad luck- but if CT-113 was just going to wind up dead anyway… “You’re going to need more layers than that.”

The Mandalorian sighs, “It’s not like there was time to go shopping.”

CT-113 winced. Right- his team had shot the other’s ship down, “I’ve got a blanket?” 

“No tricks. I will shoot you.”

“No tricks.” CT-113 promised, watching the rifle warily as he grabbed a cylinder attached to his gear.

“Open it.” The Mandalorian ordered, looking ready to spring for cover at the slightest indication of something wrong. CT-113 does so, easily revealing the fabric within, “Place it on the ground and step away.” 

The snow trooper nods, wincing as his chest continues to burn. CT-113 dared not rub at the ache. To never reveal a physical weakness had been one of his life’s earliest lessons. He’d buy himself more time by remaining calm and keeping his breaths as even as possible. The snow trooper keeps his hands up and away from his gear as the Mandalorian shifts the gun.

With oddly gentle movements, the Mandalorian tucked the blanket around the child. The Mandalorian (who is no less dangerous for all that he is cradling an infant) continues to gester with the rifle as if it is an extension of his arm, “Walk.”

CT-113 walks.

Eventually the three of them are forced to wait out the storm in a cave as visibility drops to non-existent. The well-insulated snowtrooper can tell when the Mandalorian starts to shiver. CT-113 frowns when the Mandalorian tucks the kid behind his beskar breastplate and jacket, exposing himself to more of the winter chill. “You’re cloak isn’t going to be enough. You should put the blanket around yourself.”

“I’m fine.”

“Temperatures are suboptimal. You’ll freeze.”

“No, I won’t.”

“You really will.” Did the bounty hunter know _anything_ about ice planets?

“Watch me.”

“I am.” It would be unwise to do anything else, “But if I watch you for any longer, you won’t be just an idiot. You’ll be an idiot icicle.”

“I’m fine.”

“Sure,” CT-113 drawled, “Look. The kid is fine in the heat blanket for now, but if your temperature continues to drop, then the kid is going to be stuck in a frozen beskar can.” 

“...”

CT-113 shook his head, “At least get a fire going. It’s going to be a few hours before the blizzard lets up.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“The more useful I am, the later you’ll kill me,” CT-113 admits. Not that it would matter if the burning sensation in his chest turned out to be fatal. 

The Mandalorian is inspecting him again. Surely he got whatever impressions he needed the first time? “I… do not often travel to winter planets.” No kidding. The notorious criminal seemed to be a disaster when it came to knowledge about CT-113’s favorite season. Wait.

“Next you’re going to tell me that your canteen froze,” CT-113 grumbled.

The Mandalorian inclined his shiny helmet in acknowledgment.

The snow trooper held back a groan. And he was the lucky one sharing a cave with this bucket-head. The Mandalorian could still choose to shoot him if CT-113 was too insulting. “Just start a fire already.” CT-113 survived the last half-hour, so what were a few more?

Happy chirps and coos weren’t the reason CT-113 surrendered his own flask. Nope. The high-calorie packets were just added out of indifference for the plight of an ill-prepared parent. They were still targets. Disasters, but dangerous and potentially lethal. 

-

The three of them do manage to survive the next few hours, much to CT-113’s hidden surprise. If he survived this long, CT-113 must have only had a couple of broken ribs. He can work with that. Back to… erm, _escorting_ the Mandalorian to the imperial ship. Joy. 

CT-113 isn’t thrilled to find himself falling, literally, because he was distracted by the baby’s too-knowing eyes. Bad luck. 

But.

He’s not dead?

CT-113 found he was rising, floating midair. Disbelieving, the snow trooper looks around at the icy cliffs. Glancing downward was a bad idea. Snapping his head skyward, CT-113 watched tiny hands reach out with closed eyes. Oh. 

That has to be why his employer wants the asset back so badly. Force-users are immensely powerful people. But not all powerful.

Should CT-113 really be feeling his pulse in his stomach? The Mandalorian had finished pulling the snow trooper up onto stable ground. The scrape across CT-113’s ribs was painful, but not the worst he’s ever experienced. Yet his body shakes. 

The child looks exhausted, tucked away in the Mandalorian’s sling. “Is the child okay?”

“Yeah.” The Mandalorian was alert and minutely shivering; which was good. The stiff movements of those lightning-fast reflexes was not. “Let’s go.”

Trailing behind the Mandalorian, CT-113 winced as droplets of fresh blood betray the Mandalorian’s reopened injury. The snow trooper found himself attempting to discreetly bury the red dna underneath his feet. It would prevent awkward questions later.

With a now-unfolded shovel, CT-113 gets to work digging out the entrance of the imperial ship. It takes time and his chest hurts, but at least he’s warm. The temperature of the other two is dropping again. CT-113 opens the door so the other two can at least get out of the wind. The Mandalorian watches the trooper closely- presumably to shoot CT-113 if anything goes wrong. Despite that, the Mandalorian allows CT-113 close enough that the trooper slaps him with a couple of sealed bacta patches.

“Why?”

If you’re the best Mandalorian bounty hunter, that really doesn’t say good things about the imperial forces capabilities. It was only logical to stop the evidence trail at its source, CT-113 thought peevishly. “You’re no good to the kid dead.”

The Mandalorian just tilts his helmet. Staring at CT-113.

CT-113 shifts a bit, clearing his throat, “Anyway, what parts do you need?”

“Wires and fuel patch tape.”

“Right. There should be some in the repair kit, I’ll go see how much.” CT-113 hurried off, eager to find a quiet spot for just a few moments. It helped that the repair kit was stored near the refresher. Out of sight of the Mandalorian, CT-113 snuck a bacta patch underneath his armor where his ribs hurt the most. The snowtrooper couldn’t risk assessing the actual damage yet- but this should at least take the edge off the still-itchy burning sensation. 

When CT-113 got back, he found the Mandalorian looking behind various panels. Presumably he was evaluating viable parts. Hopefully it was nothing too obvious or necessary that would prevent CT-113 from flying the dropship back to base. The child is bundled up in both the blanket and the cape on top of one of the seats, contentedly peering those big soulful eyes at the two adults. CT-113 blinked and tore his vision away from the baby. It was safer to look at the Mandalorian. Less to lie about later if he survived.

The two of them work not quite side-by-side, but mutually keeping their hands in conspicuous locations. One of the bounty hunter’s hands were near his gun even with a spanner in the other hand. CT-113 did his best to keep calm and carry on gutting the imperial ship.

CT-113’s hands shook a little as the Mandalorian got closer to finishing collecting the rest of the parts that the bounty hunter needed. Was this it? The child had saved CT-113 earlier, but that was likely a repayment for the blanket. Soon the Mandalorian would have no more reason to keep the snowtrooper alive. 

CT-113 needed a distraction.

One presents itself in the arriving reinforcements. Behind the impassive shield of white armor it’s a breeze to bluff and tell FN-948 that the targets are still in the mountains.

“If the ice didn’t get them, the storm did,” CT-113 reports confidently. It would have even been true had CT-113 not aided them. Best not think too loudly about that right now. The Mandalorian’s rifle was right behind him.

The snowtrooper marches off with the new squad. CT-113 carefully watches out for more of the icy pitfalls that would have meant his death just that morning. At least his ribs have finally dwindled into a minor grievance.

The four of them dig and dig. They locate the members of CT-113 previous squad- scavenging what they can from the packs before attempting to locate where the asset and the Mandalorian could have been buried. With FN-948's increasingly frustrated tirade, CT-113 dares not rebury the unearthed snowtroopers. No matter what bad luck that would bring them.

Bad luck nearly gave CT-113 a near heart attack when FN-948 scanned the cave CT-113 and the targets had shared. The other trooper only grumbled and moved on. 

After three hours of grueling, back-breaking digging and searching, FN-948 terms the venture a failure. One hour more than CT-113 estimated for the Mandalorian to repair his ship and escape. The four of them trudge back to the dropship. No one is happy to find the dislodged panels and stolen parts.

“The Mandalorian must have tracked CT-113 to the ship,” FT-817 reported, tone hinting at disgust.

CT-113 cringed internally. “My HUD did not detect anyone following me.”

“This is the Mandalorian we are talking about,” FT-972 grunted as he slid a panel back into place, “I’m more surprised the Mandalorian would leave the ship flight worthy.”

FN-948 snapped toward the other trooper, “FT-972 are you suggesting… ?”

“A bomb, sir? That would be my guess if we attempted to pursue the targets.” So the four snowtroopers proceeded to carefully comb the ship for any explosives. None were found… which was both good and bad.

The team of snowtroopers cautiously flew the dropship over the location where the Mandalorian’s ship had crashed. The only thing that remained were the impressions in the snow where it had been. 

“Why didn’t you leave a guard in the first place!” FN-948 demanded.

“The captain’s orders, sir. The targets fled into the mountains. We were to follow and eliminate them,” CT-113 stated.

“Then why didn’t you stand guard on the Mandalorian’s ship instead of returning to the dropship?” 

“I needed a small amount of medical attention, sir.” 

“Why didn’t you report this earlier trooper!”

“You wanted to get the job done quickly, sir! It was a reasonable assumption that the targets being away from their ship would freeze to death in the storm. The Mandalorian clearly didn’t unbury the troopers to steal their supplies.” And now that CT-113 was thinking of it, hopefully no one inventoried the missing blanket.

“Tell me you at least pointed recording devices at the Mandalorian’s ship?”

“Err… no sir. The dropship isn’t equipped with them.” 

“The higher-ups are not going to be happy, CT-113.”

“Acknowledged, sir!” CT-113 grimaced behind his helmet. 

-

Maybe CT-113 should have let the Mandalorian shoot him. Not happy… was a generous understatement. CT-113 wasn’t scheduled for immediate decommissioning which was a bit of good luck. Bad luck… the commander finished the interrogation with hours of electrocution ‘therapy’. The Commander wasn’t even asking questions about the Mandalorian anymore and had, in fact, left to report to others still higher up in the imperial food chain. Speaking of food chains, CT-113 felt like fried flakes of fish food. 

“Hey! What’s increasing power drai-! Oh. You’re still here. Hey ET-47! Are you travelling with the commander or remaining on base today?”

“Procedure: Interrogate Snow Trooper CT-113. Technique: Vary Jolts Between 2 and 30%. End State: the Commander returns.”

There was a whistle, “Wowee. Understood. The Commander went to bed two hours ago. Just be aware this icy-wasteland base doesn’t generate much power. You’re expending energy FN-948 would prefer to preserve for the storm shields.” 

“Acknowledged. Procedure: Interrogate Snow Trooper CT-113. Technique: Sleep Deprivation. Vary Jolts Between 2 and 8%. End State: the Commander Returns.”

“Much appreciated, ET-47.” A door shut again. Briefly, CT-113 wondered who it was, but another jolt of sparking pain reminded him it didn’t matter. _He_ wasn’t worth energy, time, or bacta, but... CT-113 was still alive. 

...Ow. 

-

CT-113 shouldn’t be hallucinating right? Unless he had been left alone with ET-47 for days. It was possible, CT-113 supposed. 

Bright beskar slammed into ET-47, disabling the electrocution droid with immense prejudice. Huh. CT-113 didn’t think he hated the droid _that_ much, ET-47 was only doing its job. Also, why would CT-113 be hallucinating the Mandalorian (of all people) infiltrating the base to smash one droid?

The baby was tugging on CT-113’s blacks, his tiny frowning face covered in a massive bubble-helmet. 

“M’fine,” the snowtrooper mumbled to the upset child. Whoops. CT-113 shouldn’t be talking to illusions. Would get reconditioned or terminated sooner.

And now there were tactile hallucinations to go with the visual and audible ones. Wonderful. CT-113 snapped his eyes closed as the snowtrooper was hauled into the air. Dizzy, CT-113 protested, swatting the air with his unpinned hand, “Kin stand.”

The snow trooper thought he heard a snort and a mechanically drawled voice, “Sure you can.”

“You’re off planet. Beskar and green beans don’t do well in snow. Glare doesn’t tell snow what to do. I’m… snowtrooper. ‘Kin stand.”

“You’re delirious.”

“Affirmative.” CT-113 bobbed his head, yawning, “Just need sleep in snow.”

“What do you know about the Mandalorian?”

CT-113 scowled, "Wears shiny beskar. Is Mandalorian.” Being perfectly obtuse might cause ET-47 to electrocute the trooper out of the delirium. Which is better than saying something that might actually cause the base troopers to take interest and increase the severity of their interrogation methods. Or maybe the delusions were caused because ET-47 had fried CT-113’s brain?

It felt nice though. The sensation of being carried. Weird, but nice.

“What about the kid?”

“What kid? Didn’t say anything about a kid. Imperial-ness isn’t good for kids.” CT-113 tiredly giggled. Oops, not supposed to say or do _that_ either. 

The child popped his head over the Mandalorian’s shoulder, cooing. 

“Nope. Didn’t see a kid. Or Mandalorian. Just an explosion, sir.”

There were some violent sounds- words in an unknown language but with unmistakable rhythm. The Mandalorian ducked around a corner, his arms tightening around CT-113’s frame as the speed they were going increased. 

Where were all the other troopers anyway? CT-113 yawned again, his eyes drifting closed again, “No excuses, sir. Understood, sir.” Best to be on the safe side and cover all the bases before he was punished for being drowsy and- and something else. CT-113 couldn’t remember.

More cursing, “What injuries do you have, snowtrooper?”

CT-113 struggled to open his eyes. It was even harder to think, “Need to walk. Gear up. Not bad enough to be decommissioned. Sir.” 

“Stop with the sir.”

“Yes, sir.”

There was a large sigh, “Your name trooper, what is it?” So this new form of interrogation definitely was some sort of trap. The snowtrooper can handle simple answers. Maybe. Clearly the commander suspected him of lying.

“CT-113, sir.”

“I said your name, not your number.”

“Stormtroopers aren’t allowed to have names, sir.” Imperial propaganda at its finest. 

“I’m not calling you a droid’s name.” CT-113 scrunched up his eyebrows at the odd words, frowning. Maybe this wasn’t a new form of interrogation but a dream? 

“M’name’s Corin,” The snowtrooper dared to whisper, muscles tensing- waiting for a reprimand. None came. 

“List your injuries, Corin.”

“Just burns,” Corin wheezed, “Not important. Green child needs Mandalorian.” The Mandalorian stepped over the legs of a couple of slumbering snow troopers. Strangely they were missing their helmets. That was so against regulation. “This is a weird dream,” CT-113 mumbled.

“Stay with me, Corin.”

“M’not going anywhere.” And that was when the base’s alarms started to blare. Wow. ET-47 was really dedicated to keeping CT-113 awake and hallucinating. CT-113 and the Mandalorian had both startled with the unfortunate side effect of creating more bruises on Corin’s skin. It did help keep the snow trooper more awake though. 

Troopers with their helmets on started marching into the hallways and started to shoot. The Mandalorian shot back when he could, but with his arms full, the Mandalorian mostly dodged toward the exit. Then the commander arrived, looking rather irate. And, well…

CT-113 shot him. 

Somehow. 

The three of them successfully dived into the outside weather- Corin being temporarily sat down while the Mandalorian shot the pursuing soldiers until the last of the smarter troopers withdrew. The bounty hunter slammed the exit hatch closed, jamming the mechanisms with a stolen rifle. 

The Mandalorian coaxed his stolen pistol out of Corin’s trembling hands. The snowtrooper looked up at his rescuers. “This is a dream, right?” Corin smiled, “Good while it lasts and bitter as bile when I wake up?”

And the darkness that Corin fell into must mean he’s going to wake up soon, right?

-

CT-113 wakes feeling oddly comfortable. He patted the bedding underneath his hand. It was much fluffier than normal. Did he lay out his blanket on his cot before falling asleep? But CT-113 gave his blanket to the child... 

Corin sat up a little too fast. Nausea nearly overwhelmed his sight and his stomach. The snowtrooper blinked as he heard the child coo. Surely he wasn't still delirious, right? Tiny claws brushed up against the medical wraps that encased his chest. Corin looked and there indeed was the child, chirping up at him. 

Bewildered, Corin swept the child into his arms. "Hello, little guy. Where are we?" 

"My ship." Flinching, instinctively curling around the young one in a defensive maneuver, Corin looked up. He was now achingly aware of his lack of armor. Not that stormtrooper armor really meant anything when you were up against a _Mandalorian_. But CT-113 didn’t even have a shirt on! Just the telling tingle of bacta gel and strips of cloth bandages across his chest. And! And slightly too-large pants. Corin may be getting a little hysterical. His family would have been ashamed. If this was real...

Corin pinched himself with a growing amount of dread, “It wasn’t a dream was it? This is real? Why in stars name did you come back?!” And CT-113, no he could no longer be a simple snowtrooper, _Corin_ had shot his commanding officer and deserted.

"I, uh, came back for you." 

"Why? I'm an enemy- someone who was going to turn you in for the money!" The Mandalorian leveled a skeptical tilt of his helmet toward him. Pointedly gesturing at the child still in Corin’s arms who was mimicking his father’s doubtful expression. So unfair. “I was! I may be regrettably attached now, but I meant it! How do you even know that I still won’t?”

"No one has succeeded. I wouldn’t have returned for you if I thought you would be a threat to the child." 

Corin should probably feel offended, but the former snowtrooper _had_ practically engineered a way for the Mandalorian and his charge to escape. And the Mandalorian _is_ the best of the bounty hunters on this side of the galaxy. Even if Corin was holding the child as a hostage, he’d sooner bet on the Mandalorian’s lethality over Corin’s own ability to harm the green bean. "Right but still, that doesn't explain why you returned, risking bad luck by ‘A’ revealing your position, ‘B’ infiltrating a base, and ‘C’ kidnapping _me_ of all people." 

“Who else would I return for?” Bewildered, Corin watched the Mandalorian remove one of the armored gauntlets. 

That was far more skin than Corin ever expected to see. Human skin at that. The child slid off his lap. Occupied by the distraction in front of him, Corin steadied the toddering infant as the kid touched the floor. A new looking scar looked strangely elegant against the muscled forearm.The former trooper couldn’t help but reach out and trace the shapes. The Mandalorian stilled, but Corin hardly noticed- so mesmerized he was by the scar. “You came back for a hint about your soul words? How did you even find me to ask?” Also, how could Corin be of any use to helping the Mandalorian find his soulmate? 

“The kid helped.” 

Corin yanks his hands away, his ears and cheeks burning with embarrassment as he realized he was _touching_ the Mandalorian. Even for a stormtrooper whose words were doomed to be burnt away upon discovery, to trace someone else’s words was a different kind of intimacy. The Mandalorian took a step back in startlement and lowering shoulders. The kind that expressed depression… or perhaps even resigned acceptance. 

Wait.

“Those are my words?!” Corin yelped, turning to examine his own skin, “Where are yours?” Corin started to tug and tear at his bandages when a warm hand stopped him. 

“You are still healing.”

Corin’s breath choked in his lungs, “Did they already burn the words away?”

“What?!”

Corin swallowed and explained, “It’s standard procedure for the empire to scar any presented soul words. Typically it’s done with fire or a brand. Occasionally an officer or a medic will use a knife instead. I was hoping to see them at least once.”

The Mandalorian was silent for a while, the free armored hand turning into a fist. Corin tried to not squirm underneath the other’s very noticeable grip on his own hands. The contact highlighted Corin’s lack of armor, causing him to flinch. The restarted whispers of the unknown language reminded the ex-snowtrooper of his arrogance. Maybe they didn’t share soulwords; afterall why would a Mandalorian want to be tied to a lowly representative of an empire that had exiled his people away from their home planet? 

“...The soul words on your skin are still intact.” The Mandalorian finally bit out in basic, “I saw them. They are on your chest.” Corin cringed. Yep, definitely angry. Why did the Mandalorian bother to come back if he was this furious to be soul-tied to a snowtrooper? 

“Sorry.” Corin tried to pull away, averting his eyes. 

The Mandalorian’s grasp was firm to the point of almost bruising, refusing to let Corin retreat. “Why would you be sorry?”

“You’re tied to me, a snowtrooper. An ex-snowtrooper because I shot the commander, but I still worked for the empire. I would just hold you back.” 

“...”

Corin dared to glance at the Mandalorian out of the corner of his eye, “I understand that you wouldn’t want anything to do with me- with what I represent to you or your people. I- I am grateful that you rescued me prior to the commander or a medic learning about the words on my skin. If- if staying causes you trouble, you can just drop me off at the next planet and never have to worry about me using the connection against you.”

“Would-” The Mandalorian cleared his throat, “Would you want our soul connection to mean something?”

“Yes, but I don’t see why you would,” Corin confessed. “You’re upset.”

The Mandalorian let out a deep sigh, “You helped me and the kid. I want to help you. Upset is too mild of a word. I am angry that the empire destroys what is sacred to the soul, not at you.”

“Oh.”

The Mandalorian released his grip on Corin’s hands, removing the unarmored hand from the ex-snowtrooper’s bandaged chest. 

“Could- Can I remove the bandages without you stopping me?” Corin wasn’t sure he could believe this was happening- he had to see for himself.

The Mandalorian hesitated, “Just… don’t harm yourself in your haste.”

The ex-snowtrooper mutely nodded. Trembling fingers unpeeled a roll of bandage, the Mandalorian helping when Corin’s dexterity failed him. And there it was. The scarred letters on Corin’s chest were difficult to read at this angle, but the soul mark- the first words his soulmate spoke to him were forever etched on his skin. _Why do I need your help for that?_

“Will you give us a chance to try?” The Mandalorian whispered, offering his armor-free hand to the ex-trooper.

“Yes.” Corin smiled with reckless joy as he reached out and watched their fingers intertwine, “Yes.”


End file.
